Sunshine Daydream
My mom sent me a funny e-mail yesterday regarding my last post. She reminded me that I once called her and told her I was considering leaving undergrad to follow the Grateful Dead for awhile. I, of course, do not remember this conversation, but my mom recalled almost having a nervous breakdown at my contemplation of yet another diversion to avoid actually getting a degree and joining the responsible world of working adults. I had, after all, changed my major 4 times, considered leaving college to be a pastry chef (as mentioned previously), considered leaving college to join the police force and become a homicide detective, and apparently considered leaving college to follow the Grateful Dead. I did eventually graduate after sticking around on the five-year plan, but only managed to stay out of school for six months before bailing on the real world and returning for graduate work. That's another story for another time, but the avoiding-the-real-world-in-favor-of-college was a pervasive trend throughout my 20s. I've promised myself that the buck stops here at thirty-something and law school, but sometimes being a hair dresser sounds like it could be interesting.
Anyhow, I digress. Back to the Grateful Dead.
When I moved into the most insane co-ed dorm at Ball State University in the fall of 1991, I quickly realized that I had lived somewhat of a sheltered life. Not that I was an angel - far from it, but I was not wise to the ways of partying like these kids were. BSU was, at that time, still considered among the top ten party schools in the country (nothing to be real proud of there, I know. I don't think my parents knew about that statistic when I chose BSU). I discovered that my new next-door dorm-mates, Lily and Harmony, were single-handedly trying to keep BSU in the running for top honors. Those two girls not only knew how and when to throw a great party, but they knew people to party with, having spent many weekends at Ball State during their senior years in high school. Not me - I pretty much came straight from the farm.
Harmony, as you might have guessed by her name, was the only child of ultra-liberal, hippie parents. She had long, curly hair and wore twirly skirts and birkenstocks and occassionally scored pot for her dad. Lily was much the same, and before long, I, too, had myself a pair of birkenstocks. The first time I ever heard the Grateful Dead was within the first week or so of my freshman year, unless you count the overkill radio play of "Touch of Grey" and I do not. I was laying across a loft bed in Lily and Harmony's purple cinderblock dorm room when I first heard "Sugar Magnolia" and I was hooked, just as I was after hearing "Peace Train" by Cat Stevens and "Stir It Up" by Bob Marley for the first time. I quickly did away with my mainstream music in favor of this old stuff that was so refreshingly new to me.
We had a great group of friends back then - all guys except Lily, Harmony and myself. They were mostly art majors, rugby players, tree-huggers and stoners. We hung out. We helped each other through the difficult core classes, and skipped the easier elective classes on sunny afternoons. We drank cheap beer. We lived together. We snuck off to the art building in the middle of the night to throw pottery. We played frisbe in the Quad. We rode our bikes to the rock quarry and swam at sunrise. We had fun theme parties. We went to rugby games. We camped at the Water Bowl. We grilled out and sat on the porches. We listened to Fred play his guitar and sing his tunes. We had dart tournaments and euchre tournaments that lasted all night long. We borrowed my parents' minivan and drove it to Florida for Spring Break. We absolutely adored each other, and sometimes we even tried to date each other. And through it all, we were almost always listening to the Grateful Dead. We really were pretty good kids, and I grew up a lot in those first two years of college with these people beside me.
I went to my first show the summer following my freshman year. One show led to another, which led to traveling around as much as my work schedule would allow and as much as I could get away with. Lily, Harmony and I would throw our toothbrushes, lip balm and a couple of sweatshirts into a bag, and off we'd go, sure to meet up with the boys at some point and hoping they would have tickets for us. We'd park in the lot, lay out on the hood of Lily's car in our bikini tops and cut-offs, smoking Camel Lights, listening to bootleg recordings, making friends with whatever neighbors might pull up next to us in an old VW minibus, waiting for the gates to open. We met the most eclectic people from all walks of life at those shows. We bought veggie burritos and got hair wraps and listened to drum circles. The shows were always amazing, but I loved the electric excitement of the parking lot atmosphere before the shows. We were spontaneous and crazy and by all standards, irresponsible. But we had more fun asserting our independence and our free spirit during those summers with the Dead.
The following year we did it all over again, although we worked more and went to fewer shows outside of Indiana. By the next year, we all seemed to be moving in a different direction. Maybe we were growing up, but we also were growing apart. I was crazy about a new boyfriend who wasn't into the Dead scene, and as often happens at that age, I found myself drifting away from my old group and into a new group. I remember feeling like maybe I was selling out, whatever that meant, and telling myself that I was just getting older and this was life. Whatever it was that changed that year, I always missed something about those early days of college. And I always knew that I would never recapture that carefree spirit from those days again.
But whenever I listen to the Grateful Dead today, I can almost remember what it was like when life seemed so very simple and easy.
Anyhow, I digress. Back to the Grateful Dead.
When I moved into the most insane co-ed dorm at Ball State University in the fall of 1991, I quickly realized that I had lived somewhat of a sheltered life. Not that I was an angel - far from it, but I was not wise to the ways of partying like these kids were. BSU was, at that time, still considered among the top ten party schools in the country (nothing to be real proud of there, I know. I don't think my parents knew about that statistic when I chose BSU). I discovered that my new next-door dorm-mates, Lily and Harmony, were single-handedly trying to keep BSU in the running for top honors. Those two girls not only knew how and when to throw a great party, but they knew people to party with, having spent many weekends at Ball State during their senior years in high school. Not me - I pretty much came straight from the farm.
Harmony, as you might have guessed by her name, was the only child of ultra-liberal, hippie parents. She had long, curly hair and wore twirly skirts and birkenstocks and occassionally scored pot for her dad. Lily was much the same, and before long, I, too, had myself a pair of birkenstocks. The first time I ever heard the Grateful Dead was within the first week or so of my freshman year, unless you count the overkill radio play of "Touch of Grey" and I do not. I was laying across a loft bed in Lily and Harmony's purple cinderblock dorm room when I first heard "Sugar Magnolia" and I was hooked, just as I was after hearing "Peace Train" by Cat Stevens and "Stir It Up" by Bob Marley for the first time. I quickly did away with my mainstream music in favor of this old stuff that was so refreshingly new to me.
We had a great group of friends back then - all guys except Lily, Harmony and myself. They were mostly art majors, rugby players, tree-huggers and stoners. We hung out. We helped each other through the difficult core classes, and skipped the easier elective classes on sunny afternoons. We drank cheap beer. We lived together. We snuck off to the art building in the middle of the night to throw pottery. We played frisbe in the Quad. We rode our bikes to the rock quarry and swam at sunrise. We had fun theme parties. We went to rugby games. We camped at the Water Bowl. We grilled out and sat on the porches. We listened to Fred play his guitar and sing his tunes. We had dart tournaments and euchre tournaments that lasted all night long. We borrowed my parents' minivan and drove it to Florida for Spring Break. We absolutely adored each other, and sometimes we even tried to date each other. And through it all, we were almost always listening to the Grateful Dead. We really were pretty good kids, and I grew up a lot in those first two years of college with these people beside me.
I went to my first show the summer following my freshman year. One show led to another, which led to traveling around as much as my work schedule would allow and as much as I could get away with. Lily, Harmony and I would throw our toothbrushes, lip balm and a couple of sweatshirts into a bag, and off we'd go, sure to meet up with the boys at some point and hoping they would have tickets for us. We'd park in the lot, lay out on the hood of Lily's car in our bikini tops and cut-offs, smoking Camel Lights, listening to bootleg recordings, making friends with whatever neighbors might pull up next to us in an old VW minibus, waiting for the gates to open. We met the most eclectic people from all walks of life at those shows. We bought veggie burritos and got hair wraps and listened to drum circles. The shows were always amazing, but I loved the electric excitement of the parking lot atmosphere before the shows. We were spontaneous and crazy and by all standards, irresponsible. But we had more fun asserting our independence and our free spirit during those summers with the Dead.
The following year we did it all over again, although we worked more and went to fewer shows outside of Indiana. By the next year, we all seemed to be moving in a different direction. Maybe we were growing up, but we also were growing apart. I was crazy about a new boyfriend who wasn't into the Dead scene, and as often happens at that age, I found myself drifting away from my old group and into a new group. I remember feeling like maybe I was selling out, whatever that meant, and telling myself that I was just getting older and this was life. Whatever it was that changed that year, I always missed something about those early days of college. And I always knew that I would never recapture that carefree spirit from those days again.
But whenever I listen to the Grateful Dead today, I can almost remember what it was like when life seemed so very simple and easy.
posted by Amanda at 3:09 PM
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